He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. ” She sniffled. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all.
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